


The Sum of Their Parts

by ThayerKerbasy



Series: What Comes Next [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s13e19 Funeralia, Found Family, Gen, Implied past Crowley/Naomi, POV Crowley (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: Something wasn't quite right in Heaven. It wasn't bothering Crowley until it showed up in Gavin and Fiona's heaven. That made it Crowley's problem.
Relationships: Charlie Bradbury & Crowley, Crowley & Bobby Singer
Series: What Comes Next [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/898953
Comments: 18
Kudos: 19
Collections: SPNColdestHits





	The Sum of Their Parts

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place sometime before s13e13 but uses information from s13e19, hence the episode tag. Also, previous installments in this series were tagged Canon Compliant, but now season 15 has rendered certain elements of this story inaccurate (notably, the presence of a character who we now know shouldn't be there). I'm not going to change the tags on the past fics, but this fic and any others I might add to the series will be tagged Canon Divergence.

The morning sun was shining brightly, but the sky was grey and the clouds aching. If the weather continued as it was, Gavin’s heaven memory could turn unexpectedly stormy. It wasn’t the first time something seemed off in one of the personal heavens in the Roadhouse network, but Crowley had no idea what to do about it.

As usual, Gavin and Fiona were utterly oblivious to his presence if he didn’t say anything. He could have taken the usual handful of minutes to jog their memories — with the attendant invitation to dinner later, during which they’d stare into each others eyes for a small eternity — but for the moment he was content to watch from afar. It was a comfort just knowing they were happy together.

The couple’s shared memory played out, their walk through the heather coming to an end with Fiona announcing that she needed to get back home if they wanted to have something to eat later. Despite the unusually dark sky, rain never fell, but the sky flickered like lightning nonetheless. For a memory that was supposed to be bright and sunny, it was unsettling.

When they went inside, there was no point in remaining in the memory without going with them. As he had no intention of intruding, Crowley set off in the direction of the old abandoned hut whose door he used for traveling between heavens.

It was difficult at first, being back in a place where his life had gone so wrong and he had no good memories to speak of. Little by little, however, he was building new memories by watching Gavin’s, so the sweet smell of heather carried aloft on a warm summer breeze was almost relaxing. It would have been a nice walk if he hadn’t been preoccupied by the odd change in the weather.

Drawing the Roadhouse sigil on the old weathered boards of the abandoned hut was routine, checking over his shoulder for angelic pursuit a matter of habit. Their heavens were all warded against angels with powerful soul magic and they hadn’t had to worry about their jailers for quite some time, but it was a habit he had no intention of giving up. He valued his freedom too highly.

Sigil complete, Crowley shoved the door open and stepped through into Ash’s Roadhouse heaven. Frank and Ash occupied their usual stools at the bar, while Charlie and Jo played pool against Eileen and Rufus, but they all stopped what they were doing when Crowley walked through the door.

“Hey, Lord Tyrant!” called Charlie from across the room. “How’re the kids?”

Crowley forced a smile. “Oh, you know, Your Highness, same as always. Never seen a more disgusting couple of fools. It’s truly nauseating.”

Unlike Crowley, Rufus was practically grinning as he signed and said, “Quit the act, Crowley. We all know you’re happy for both of them.”

“It’s not that.” Crowley sighed and shook his head. “It’s happened again.”

Immediately, the mood in the room darkened. Frank looked like it was the confirmation of his worst fears. Jo went to the bar without a word and mixed him a drink. Everyone else slumped, like the joy had been leached out of them.

Crowley took a seat at the bar around the corner from Ash and Frank, avoiding their eyes. Jo mixed him a whisky cobbler, which was probably for the best, since he likely would have foregone the mixers if left to his own devices.

Handing over his drink, Jo said, “Alright, we’ve seen some mighty screwed up memories recently. Stuff goes missin’ here ‘n there, an’ Bobby said there’s been some problems with the memory people skippin’ like the jukebox when you kick it. What’s it this time?”

Fiddling with the fruit garnishes in his drink, Crowley explained the sun shining brightly in a cloudy sky that was meant to be sunny, finishing up with, “It’s not the worst we’ve seen, but it’s new and different. Something’s wrong and I don’t think we can wait it out.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” grumbled Frank, “but would anyone listen? _No_. You were all _so sure_ we were safe, but you can’t fool old Frank with that malarkey.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Frank, you thought the angels were going to muster up death squads to break in here and double kill us, which is totally not the same thing.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t hear anyone else voicing any concerns.”

Eileen, who had been content to silently follow the conversation up until that point, grinned at Charlie and said, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

The laughter started with Charlie and rippled through the bar. Thanks to her recent dramatic readings of _Harry Potter_ , everyone at least got the joke. Frank smiled bitterly. “Laugh all you want, but Mad Eye Moody was proven right in the end, wasn’t he?”

“You’re right, Frank, he was,” said Charlie, “and you were right that we weren’t out of danger, but what the frak do we do now?”

“I don’t know, sugarpop. Maybe I’d have made more progress if you’d all believed me and oh, I dunno, _offered to help?_ ”

Crowley, who was still learning to speak Frank, held up his hands in a call for peace. “Look, no one’s blaming you for anything. Yes, we were all complacent fools once we got our heavens warded. How about instead of bickering, we make up for lost time.”

Frank offered a conciliatory shrug in return.

“So,” said Ash, who’d seemingly been ignoring everyone in favour of his computer, “since we’re on the subject, something ain’t been quite right in Angelville lately. They’ve been talking practically non-stop since any of us got here. Everything from what to do about the Winchesters down to angel water cooler talk. Until recently anyways. It happened slow enough none of us noticed, but there’s hardly any angels gabbing anymore. Winged bastards got real quiet.”

There was a moment of silence during which everyone visually digested that little fact, Crowley included, to his chagrin. The ever-present high pitched whine of Enochian chatter from Ash’s computer had become a normal part of the bar’s usual background noise they’d all learned to tune out. Demonic Crowley would have picked up on it right away, but being a human soul had changed him. Crowley was ashamed to admit to himself that he hadn’t noticed a difference in angel radio until Ash mentioned it, but it was definitely quieter than it was when he first arrived. If he concentrated, he could pick out individual voices.

Listening to the angels made Crowley do a double take. “Hey, I know that one. She’s the reason I know how to speak Enochian at all.”

“Hold up.” Charlie walked over to the laptop and pointed at the visual representation of angel radio. “You mean to tell me you’ve had a lady on the inside this whole time and you never said anything?”

“No! I mean yes, but I thought she was dead. As far as anyone knew, Metatron killed Naomi so he could take over Heaven. If Naomi’s alive, that changes everything.” He decided without really thinking it over. “I need to go talk to her.”

“Absolutely not!” Frank emphasized with a swipe of his hands. “You’re just gonna trust your old flame not to sell you out? Do you know how dangerous it would be if the dick squad had unrestricted access to you?”

Crowley mentally reprimanded himself. Humanity had made him entirely too comfortable, to the point where he’d forgotten to keep his thoughts to himself. Trust had felt like such a gift until that moment.

Climbing back into his cold and lonely shell felt like crawling into a dank, dark cave, but some things were more important than comfort. He got to work planning even as he lied. “You’re right. Let’s see what else we can come up with. Anyone have any theories about why the Matrix is glitching and how that might have anything to do with why the angels are going quiet?”

He only half-listened to them tossing ideas back and forth. They didn’t have enough information to identify the correct answer even if they thought of it. For that matter, neither did he, which was why a fact-finding mission was so important.

When they started talking in circles, Crowley drifted away from the group in the direction of the little secluded alcove wherein resided the seldom used piano. It was dimly lit and the walls muffled the sound from the main room, but that was only mostly why he was interested in it.

He didn’t dare look back for fear of making eye contact with someone and provoking questions. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could explain himself if asked. Instead, he concentrated on drawing the smallest, most accurate sigil possible on the piano’s bench seat.

In a purely physical world, there was no way he would have fit in the little storage cubby inside the seat. It was meant to hold sheet music and wouldn’t have had room for anything taller than a guinea pig. Crowley, however, was in Heaven, and had left his corporeal form behind.

When the sigil was complete, Crowley opened the lid and thrust his hand inside. Like every other portal to another heaven, the moment any part of him crossed through caused him to transport, without any sensation of having traveled. Despite having been bent over, he arrived in the new memory upright, but before he could properly determine which memory he’d landed in, something collided with him from behind, knocking him to his knees.

“Sorry!” said the instantly recognizable voice behind him.

“I’m not going to ask how you followed me. That would be an insult to us both.” Crowley stood and brushed off the knees of his cargo pants, even though nothing showed on the sandy fabric. Old habits were harder to kill than Winchesters. “I would, however, like to know why. Before I turn around and acknowledge your presence, thus making this real and eliminating your shot at deniability, I want you to make absolutely certain you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“You obviously have a plan and I wanna help.”

“And you come alone because?”

“Because everyone else would’ve wanted to talk about it until we missed our chance.” Charlie shoved past him and looked him in the eyes. “You know how Heaven time works. If I waited, you could’ve gotten a two day head start if I was really unlucky. C’mon Neville, saving the world is a team sport.”

Charlie wasn’t going to take no for an answer and he was losing his head start the longer he argued with her. “Fine. But when we get there, let me do the talking.”

“You got it.” So saying, she looked around for the first time. “So, where are we anyways? I mean, I know I’ve never been to your heaven, but somehow this doesn’t strike me as yours.”

Crowley followed her gaze around the dusty cluttered room to the piles of books heaped on the old desk and around to the battered old armchair. He smiled fondly even as he walked over to the middle of the room. “It’s Bobby’s, and I don’t know how much longer he’ll be gone with the elder Harvelles, so let’s get moving.”

Charlie obediently followed him, but obviously had no idea what he was doing. “Um, okay, but why Bobby’s? Wouldn’t it have been safer to hit up your own heaven? Guaranteed nobody’d be there.”

Getting down on his hands and knees, Crowley searched as he spoke. “You know that story of Bobby’s we’ve all heard before? The old chestnut where he goes on one last ride for his boys. He breaks out of his personal prison, helps good old Cas get in the front door, then the two of them bust the Scribe of God out of his holding cell.”

“And he has just enough time to write a letter for Sam before the angels catch him and lock him back up. Yeah, I remember. Why?”

Crowley’s fingers found what he was looking for. Taking the loose thread in the old rag rug, he pulled and the outline of a door glowed on the wall. “That’s why. I’d have no idea where to start looking for the escape hatch in mine.”

The door-shaped section of wall swung open with a whiter-than-white glow which obscured everything beyond it. Charlie took a step backwards. “Uh…what exactly _is_ your plan? Are we talking something on the level of sneaking through the Room of Requirement to take back Hogwarts from the Death Eaters? ‘Cause if so, I don’t think you’ve thought this through. I mean, we don’t even have an invisibility cloak.”

Sighing, Crowley got to his feet once more, brushing off his trousers again. “Look, you didn’t sign up for this. I have half a plan at best and there’s a good chance I’m going to get tossed back into solitary until the end of time. If you want to turn back, now’s your chance. I only ask that you refrain from spilling the beans for awhile so no one else gets any stupid ideas.”

“What? No!” Charlie squared her shoulders. “ _Hell_ no. I’m coming with you. Worst case scenario, I spend forever celebrating Christmas with my parents. I’ll live. I mean— You know what I mean.”

There was no sending her back, and attempting to lose her would only result in him making rash moves and one or both of them getting caught. A small part of him was selfishly glad about that. “Right then. Shall we?”

Crowley peeked his head out the door. Apparently Bobby Singer’s heaven was in a pristine white hallway full of nearly identical doors. There was no sign of anyone else, so he gestured for Charlie to follow before stepping the rest of the way through. When his feet touched the floor of the hallway, an alarm blared.

Charlie stepped out after him. “Uh…is the alarm part of the plan?”

“It wasn’t plan A. I was rather hoping only the room’s occupant would set off the alarm, but I suppose we’re in plan B territory now.”

“Which is?”

Crowley pointed to the left. “Walk that way until we find someone.”

Charlie looked in the direction he pointed, down the seemingly endless hallway. “Great. Is there more to this plan?”

“Eventually.” Crowley shrugged. “I did say I had half a plan. We just so happen to be in the murky middle part. It’s not too late to go back if you’re concerned. The door’s right there.”

She appeared to consider it until the incandescent glow of the corridor dimmed like overhead lights in the middle of a thunderstorm. With an exaggerated _hmph_ of mock outrage Charlie started walking without him. Smiling to himself, Crowley followed. It felt good to finally be doing something about their problems.

The lights continued to flicker at random intervals, but never for more than a brief moment. The alarm receded in the distance much sooner than it should have, especially if it was Heaven-wide. Before long — at least, he thought it wasn’t long — they couldn’t hear it at all. They walked in silence for awhile, the only sound that of their footsteps, which seemed odd given that they were souls and their feet were only a manifestation of their perception of self, but he wasn’t about to question it too loudly. The sound was oddly comforting.

In an attempt to keep track of their surroundings — and to alleviate the boredom of walking down an endless pure white corridor — he read the names on the doors as they passed. Even that didn’t help much, because they were all Robert, Roberto, or Roberta Singer, but it was mildly interesting to note the sheer number of them. Bobby’s story had made mention of the various other Bobby Singers, but not the quantity. It implied something about the sheer scope of Heaven that was hard to wrap his mind around.

Charlie interrupted his thoughts. “Okay, I know Bobby might’ve been exaggerating a little, but he said he only had a minute or so before a squad of angels came to see what was going on. Shouldn’t we have run into someone by now?”

It was a thought he’d been entertaining for awhile, but had put off seriously considering. “I suppose we could unleash our own League of Surly Bobbys, but I doubt it would do much good, and I don’t particularly desire to explain the situation to a crowd of crotchety old bastards.”

“Suuuure, that’s definitely why.” When he didn’t rise to the bait, she sighed. “Alright, what is it? You got a better idea?”

“I call it Plan C.” He stopped and put his back to the wall. “I’d appreciate it if you could stand watch in case we end up with more than we can handle.”

Charlie fished her chalk out of her pocket and nodded. “I gotcha covered.”

Closing his eyes, Crowley conjured up an image in his mind of Naomi, exactly as she’d looked the last time he saw her, but also more importantly, the magnificent unyielding essence of her. Holding that thought in his head, he attempted words. _Blessed Naomi, who art in Heaven, I hope you can hear my prayer. If I’m right, you have a great whopping problem on your hands. I’d like to help. Guide my companion and I to neutral territory and I will make an offering of what information I possess. In exchange, I ask only that you permit this humble soul to help make things right. In the name of the files, the stapler, and the holy notes, Amen._

Cracking open first one eye, then both, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Whatever nebulous half-expectations he’d had, he was inevitably disappointed to find nothing had changed. Charlie stood with the beginnings of a sigil drawn on the nearest door, ready to take them to a different heaven than the one indicated on the door with a few more lines. A quick glance to either side confirmed that they remained frustratingly alone.

Charlie regarded him curiously. “So? Am I still on lookout or are we running?”

“Neither.” He smiled wryly. “I thought to arrange an audience, but it appears we’re not worth her time.”

In an odd response, Charlie’s eyes widened and she twirled her finger in a circle. Crowley turned around and nearly bumped into a tall dark man who looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of _GQ_. Heaven’s lighting wasn’t particularly kind to him, but the power fluctuations almost looked like deliberate special effects to make him look menacing.

Never one to cave at the first hint of intimidation, Crowley quipped, “Either Naomi’s gotten a lot burlier since I last saw her—”

“I’ve been sent to retrieve you,” interrupted the _GQ_ model. “Naomi’s orders.”

There was a scuffing sound behind him, followed by Charlie stepping up beside him as she wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving a dusty white smear on the fabric. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s go.”

Crowley inclined his head in the barest modicum of respect towards the (presumable) angel. “Well? You heard the lady. Let’s go, centerfold.”

Showing no sign of acknowledging any slight towards him, GQ stalked off down the corridor, obviously expecting them to follow him. Crowley turned to Charlie only to find her already looking to check with him. He nodded, she nodded back, and they hurried to catch up with their guide.

While they were walking before, the corridor had seemed endless. With an angelic guide, they passed only a handful of doors before reaching a T junction. GQ turned right, walked past a few more doors, then waited. When Crowley and Charlie caught up, a door materialized on the wall of what had been a dead end.

GQ opened the door and stepped inside. “The wayward souls you requested, Naomi.”

Behind a white desk in a room as white as the hallways sat Naomi, greatly changed from the last time Crowley remembered. Her dark grey suit was a lighter grey, her honey brown hair was snowy white and chopped short, but most noticeably she looked tired. “Thank you, Vehuel. Please close the door on your way out.”

Their guide, apparently called Vehuel, waited at the door until Crowley and Charlie entered the room. He wasted no words before leaving.

Naomi smiled and stood. “Crowley. I should’ve known you’d manage to find the only trouble in Heaven.”

Crowley echoed her smile and took a calculated step closer. “Good to see you, too, Naomi. I’m feeling _wonderful_ , thank you. So good of you to visit so often now that we’re neighbours.”

Naomi huffed a breath of a laugh and leaned forward with her hands on her desk. “I have infinitely more important things to do than spend even a moment in your tragic memories. Tell me, how does it feel to be an irrelevant stain on Earth’s history?”

That one hurt. Raising his eyebrows incredulously, Crowley made certain it wouldn’t show before calmly replying, “I think you underestimate the impact I’ve had. Got me here, didn’t it? On that note, I’m so glad to see the tales of your demise were premature, else who would be left to so expertly jockey that desk?”

Electric blue grace flashed in Naomi’s eyes and her face contorted in a sneer. She was obviously gathering the words for a truly devastating retort when Charlie stepped between them, her arms extended and palms out. “Whoa guys, hold up! I don’t know if you’re flirting or fighting, but either way I’m feeling super uncomfortable right now.”

The glow faded from Naomi’s eyes as she composed her features into their usual polite indifference, but the exhaustion was more pronounced. “Celeste Middleton, a.k.a. Charlie Bradbury. I thought you had better taste in friends. Is there a good reason you two are disturbing me at work, or are you both just desperate for attention?”

Blessedly, the lights flickered again. Crowley pointed upwards. “That! It’s harmless out here, but in our personal heavens, it’s playing havoc with the memories. The poor saps stuck in their mindless loops probably haven’t noticed much, but we have.”

He could have ranted about Heaven’s poor design for hours, but Charlie cut him off. “Whatever it is, it’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Heaven’s dying!” All the fight seemed to drain out of Naomi and she dropped back into her chair. “There are barely enough angels left to keep Heaven running. If something were to happen, to even one of us, I don’t think Heaven would survive. But sure, complain about your service a little more. I’m sure it’ll get you a discount.”

Looking like she cared enough for both of them, Charlie asked, “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Naomi shook her head. “Honestly, probably not much, unless you have an archangel tucked away somewhere I’m unaware of.”

“So it’s a matter of power,” said Crowley, taking a cautious step forward. “You’re trying to run Heaven on the equivalent of double A batteries and it’s draining you dry. Don’t bother to protest, you look awful.”

That, at least, made her smile. “Better than you, dead man. Your sense of fashion took a distinct turn for the worse. You couldn’t make a deal for shit in those clothes.”

Once, that might have offended him, but not anymore. “Haven’t you heard? I’m retired. Just for you, though, I’d like to offer a deal.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes, brow furrowed. She was intrigued. “What could you possibly have that I’d want?”

“You might have heard that we’re not all occupying our own heavens these days. It’s been some time since anyone’s tried to do anything about it — I couldn’t tell you how long, because Heaven time is truly bizarre — and I suspect your lack of manpower might be why. I propose that you and yours swear to leave us alone and I’ll volunteer my heaven to be depowered. A drop in the bucket, no doubt, but I’d imagine every little bit helps.”

When it looked like Naomi was considering it, Charlie added, “And we can ask for volunteers to have their heavens powered down, too. There’s a bunch of us who just wanna hang out together. Most of us just use our heavens to find entertainment. Let us scavenge ‘em first and I’m sure there’ll be other volunteers.”

Crowley took the last step to stand in front of Naomi. Carefully just outside her personal space, he met her gaze. “It’s your job, but it’s our afterlife. If we can at least help stabilize things, let us help.”

Naomi sighed. “You’re suggesting I look the other way while souls fraternize outside their assigned heavens, and for very little payoff.”

“We’re suggesting you let us harmlessly occupy the same space.” He extended a hand, meaning to take her hand in his, but something told him she wouldn’t appreciate it. He let his hand fall back to his side. “Some humans are fine with the same happy day over and over again, but some of us would rather have what’s real, even if it’s not perfect.”

“Besides,” said Charlie, “you can’t spare anyone to police us, so why not just accept it and benefit? It’s not like we’re gonna go break everyone out of their heavens or anything. We just want to keep each other company.”

Ignoring Crowley, Naomi directed her full attention to Charlie. “Do I have your word on that? You swear to remove no other souls from their heavens, no matter who they are?”

Eyes wide, Charlie took a moment to think that through. “That’s what you’re stuck on? Yeah, okay, I promise, no jailbreaks. Why are you asking me and not him, though?”

“ _He_ got in on a technicality. Your goodness was never in question.” While Crowley tried not to stammer a retort to that, Naomi turned her back on him and walked around the other side of her desk to Charlie. “I accept your deal. Provided you make no attempt to free any other souls, no angel will violate the borders of your personal heavens. If any of you choose to sacrifice your heaven to conserve power, I can offer no compensation beyond allowing you to remove your belongings before it’s powered down, but Heaven appreciates such a sacrifice.”

“Sounds like a fair deal to me.” Charlie offered her hand and Naomi accepted her handshake.

Crowley walked back around to stand behind Charlie. “I’m not asking for compensation. If it has even a chance of easing the workload, power down my heaven.”

Naomi nodded once. “Fine. Return to your heaven and remove anything you wish to keep. Once it’s uninhabited, we’ll switch it off. If any of your companions wish to make that sacrifice, have them step into the hall as you did.”

She insisted on accompanying them directly to Crowley’s heaven, saying she wanted to see them safely back. It was obvious what she really wanted was to make sure no rogue souls were left unsupervised. Regardless, Crowley was just grateful they wouldn’t be left to search Heaven’s impossible maze on their own.

They came to a stop in front of a door which read, “Fergus MacLeod 1661 - 1723” and below that was, “Crowley 2013 - 2017”. Apparently Heaven only counted the years when he had a portion of human blood in his veins.

Before Naomi could insist he hurry, Crowley said the words he’d been thinking since he heard her on angel radio. “I really am glad to see you’re still alive, Naomi. Whatever you want to call what we shared back then, I mourned you when I thought you died. Or at least what semblance of emotion I was capable of back then. For what it’s worth, if someone’s gotta be in charge of Heaven, I’m glad it’s you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie pretending she wasn’t there and being generally nonchalant. Best wingman ever.

Naomi smiled a thin-lipped smile. “Those were simpler times, weren’t they? I was glad to hear you died.”

Not to be deterred, Crowley returned her smile. “Y’know, I’ll just go ahead and assume you’re glad I died so I could become a pure human soul again. No need to clarify, your intent is perfectly clear.”

Her expression didn’t change. “Ever the optimist. Believe whatever makes you happy, but I need to get back to work. Collect your trinkets so I can leave.”

With Charlie’s help, Crowley made quick work of his heaven, not that there was much he wanted. Mostly, they scavenged alcohol and mixers from the bar where he’d shared a conversation with Dean, though he did also take the opportunity to grab something from another memory that had been on his mind for some time. Rather than settle for what they could carry, they drew the Roadhouse sigil and ferried everything directly.

After erasing the Roadhouse sigil, Charlie said, “That was a pretty great haul, but are you sure there isn’t anything else you wanna grab? No other memories worth raiding?”

Crowley shook his head. “Truth be told, most of my best memories happened after I died, and the few half-decent memories I have from before don’t really have anything worth keeping. I think I’m ready to go, Your Highness.”

Knowing him as well as she did, Charlie gave him a little arm squeeze instead of her usual hugs. “I’m sorry your life didn’t have more worthwhile memories, but I’m glad you’re here with us.”

“It would have been nice to have a wedding or a Christmas to pillage, but all things considered, I wouldn’t trade any of it because it brought me here.” Crowley patted her hand on his arm. “Now let’s blow this dump.”

Out in the hallway, there was no sign of Naomi. In her place, Vehuel waited motionless, like a marble statue, or perhaps a mannequin. Crowley imagined mannequin Vehuel modeling in the middle of a store while small children poked and prodded him.

When the door closed behind them, Vehuel came out of power saving mode. “If you’re done, follow me. I’m to return you where I found you.”

The walk back was brief and uneventful, Vehuel’s presence turning the endless corridors into a series of quick twists and turns. It was like the junctions didn’t exist until he drew near. No wonder they could never accurately map Heaven.

In what felt like no time at all, they stood at the door to Bobby Singer’s heaven. Crowley had always felt it was more welcoming than his own heaven, but he’d never felt that more strongly than he did after having left his own heaven empty. That had been a collection of memories, but Bobby’s was a home.

Vehuel didn’t say a word. He opened the door, stepped to one side, and gestured for them to proceed. Charlie gave him a little punch on the arm and said, “Thanks, Jeeves,” before skipping through the doorway.

Crowley hesitated. “If you could pass along a message to Naomi—”

“She said you might attempt this,” interrupted Vehuel. “Her message to you is to thank you for the gift of your heaven, but to make no further attempt to contact her. She is busy running Heaven and has no time — and certainly no energy — to spare. Take your deal and go, ex-demon.”

How very like her to leave a cutting remark and skip out on the rebuttal. Crowley mustered up a smile. “I only wished for you to pass along my thanks to her for dealing so fairly. Please tell Naomi she would have made an excellent crossroads demon.”

_That_ got a response. Vehuel’s brow furrowed in what looked like confused anger, but before he could decide what to say to such a statement, Crowley took a page from Charlie’s book. He patted Vehuel’s shoulder and skipped into Bobby’s heaven, pulling the door shut behind him.

Charlie was waiting for him, but she wasn’t alone. Standing opposite her and already looking ornery, Bobby was in the middle of one of his patented tirades. “—just take off without tellin’ no one? What the hell were you thinkin’?”

“I was thinking _someone_ had to follow Crowley to make sure he had backup, and I didn’t have time to tell anyone. You’d have done the exact same thing if you were me.”

Crowley thought it only fair to announce his presence. He cleared his throat and they both turned to face him. “She’s absolutely correct, Robert. Without her, I wouldn’t have managed what I set out to do. I’m the one who shouldn’t have taken off without telling anyone.”

Bobby’s craggy face creased. “You’re goddamn right you shouldn’t have. Don’t do that again, you impulsive self-centered jackass.” So saying, he crossed the room and wrapped Crowley in a hug. “Thought the dick squad got you.”

As always when someone hugged him, Crowley’s brain shut down. It was nice, sure, but it was almost too much. He had no idea what to do with his hands without being insulting, but he certainly wasn’t going to prolong matters by hugging back. Mercifully, Bobby didn’t insist on hugging much longer than a brief squeeze and a clap on the back.

Crowley stood frozen on the spot, stunned, until he managed to mutter, “Love you too, darling.”

That’s when he spotted Charlie being quietly nonchalant again, grinning from ear to ear and beaming like a whole bloody sun. That was enough to shake him out of his hug-induced stupor. He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Don’t start with me, pixie stix.”

Charlie held up both hands. “What? I didn’t say anything. I never said that you said I was right, and I sure as heck didn’t point out that you told Bobby you love him. You know what you call that, though? Growth.”

Bobby shook his head. “You’re both a pair of idjits. Let’s get on back so you can fill us all in on your no doubt compelling reasons for givin’ us all a goddamn scare.”

While Bobby drew the sigil to get them back to Ash’s Roadhouse heaven, Charlie bumped Crowley with her elbow and asked, “So, when are you gonna tell me what you grabbed from the first memory you wouldn’t let me see?”

Patting one of the many pockets in his cargo pants, Crowley smiled. “Oh, nothing terribly special. Only a few CD’s. What do you think would most irritate the senior citizens more? Beyoncé or Queen’s Greatest Hits?”

Charlie laughed. “Either one sounds awesome. Anything but more Pink Floyd.”

The sigil on the door complete, Bobby held open the door for them. “This senior citizen votes for Beyoncé, thank you very much.”

“Queen it is, then,” replied Crowley before stepping through the open door to where the rest of his friends waited for the information they’d gathered.

He hadn’t solved anything. He’d given up his heaven and come away with disturbing answers to his questions. He did get answers, though, and that was a start. Even if they never solved anything and Heaven was ultimately doomed, he was glad to be right where he was. Genuine friendship was worth the risk of possible annihilation.

**Author's Note:**

> Coldest Hits season is upon us once more, but this time the theme was of my choosing because I won in November. It's a bit much to explain in the end notes, so I'll just link [the post for this month's theme](https://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/189416326005/january-2020-prompt-command-prompt-posting-dates). The prompt just happened to fit perfectly as a continuation of this series, so I went with it.
> 
> As before in this series, I referenced a cocktail, so it's only fair I give you the recipe. [Click here to learn how to make a whisky cobbler](https://www.thespruceeats.com/brandy-or-whiskey-cobbler-759391).
> 
> Since it's my theme this month, I'm not playing to win, so please give me all your comments and kudos. I've been putting off writing this fic for far too long, so it's a relief to have it out in the world. I hope you enjoyed it.


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